


Subtlety Is Key

by elfofthedarkside



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Implied Sexual Content, Is this an AU?, Mild Language, Thor: Ragnarok (2017), bitch it might be, but not like THAT implied, but you won't find those other things here, f bomb dropped like.. twice, i'm sorry these tags are supposed to mean something, silver tongue is great for other things too, val and loki really just finna try and outdo each other, wink wink, y'kno...sneaky-wise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 02:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16945074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfofthedarkside/pseuds/elfofthedarkside
Summary: Scrapper 142 finds a Pretty Boy and does her job, bringing him to the Grandmaster. Pretty Boy seems smarter than he's trying to let on, but she can see right through that. After all, that's her specialty, too. Still, something else seems to be going on in that head of his...---Unseen scene from Thor: Ragnarok when Loki reaches Sakaar





	Subtlety Is Key

**Author's Note:**

> Look, this could be a lot better. I've been bouncing this around my head for weeks now and it didn't turn out exactly the way I imagined it, but..... It could be a whole lot worse, too. Thank gods I've actually written (and finished) something, amirite?
> 
> Written in ~2 hours, unbeta'd and barely edited because i'm lazy/motivationally challenged

Pretty Boy’s eyes twitch behind his eyelids for just a split second, then still. His breathing switches almost imperceptibly from automatic to forced slow. If I wasn’t used to seeing fake sleepers, I wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy. Good news, you woke up just in time.” I nudge him with the toe of my boot and he stirs, just slowly enough to be overdone.

“Hm…? Wha… where…?” He blinks, green eyes adjusting to the light streaming in through windshield of my ship. “Who are you?”

I cock an eyebrow, leaning back and taking another swig from my bottle. Almost empty. Damn. “A scavenger.”

“And what exactly are you scavenging?” He moves into a sitting position, folding his legs. I suppose it’s a battle of subtleties he wants.

I shrug. “Depends. At the moment? You.”

He raises an eyebrow to mirror me. “Seems a bit harsh. We’ve only just met.”

“Yeah, well.” I shrug again. That’s two. Shouldn’t do that for a while. “It’s nothing personal.”

“So…” He leans back, weight resting on his hands. Every move calculated too perfectly. “Where am I being scavenged to?”

“Grandmaster.” Another drink, this one small. Got to make it last.

His nod is short, expression mildly impressed. Just enough. “Grandmaster? Quite a title. In charge around here, I suppose?”

I return his nod, licking the spare booze from my upper lip. “Yep. You’re pretty; probably feisty. I’ll get a good price.”

The gears turning behind his eyes are almost audible. “Am I to be a slave?”

I snort. “Oh good heavens, no. That’s  _ such _ a depressing word.” I draw out the well-circulated phrase, emulating the Grandmaster’s tone. “We prefer to call them ‘prisoners with jobs’.” I take another drink, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand this time. “You’ll be fighting.”

“Fighting?” He considers this.

“Yep. Contest of Champions. The winners get to fight again. The losers…” I smirk into my bottle. “Well, let’s just say they don’t have to fight anymore.”

His throat constricts, just barely. I can practically feel his pulse quicken. “And if I refuse to fight?”

“You die.” I’m sick of drawing this out, no matter how amusing it is to see him try and match my fake nonchalance. After all this time here, I’m better at it. I turn my chair around and switch to manual controls. “Here we are.”

I hear him shifting around, maybe considering his odds at taking me out. Before he can decide, I click my remote. There’s a surprised noise, followed by a thud. I smirk.

\---

It’s too bad he doesn’t react to the introduction video aside from a tiny frown. I really do appreciate it when they freak out. When he’s brought into the present, the only change in his expression are his eyes, flitting around the room to take everything in before landing on the Grandmaster.

“What’ve you got for me today, 142?”

I wave disinterestedly towards Pretty Boy. “New meat.”

“I can see that.” Grandmaster rubs his hands together and leans forward. “He’s adorable. Kinda tiny, though.”

Pretty Boy glances at me, then back to Grandmaster. He licks his lips before finally speaking. “May I stand?”

Grandmaster blinks. “What?”

Pretty Boy keeps his voice low, but there’s a waver. “It seems disrespectful to not do so, Grandmaster.”

Topaz, the Grand Bitch herself, looks like she’s about to say something, but Grandmaster holds up a hand, a smile twitching across his expression. “I like this one.” He waves his hand. “Let him stand.”

“Sir, what if he makes a run for it?” Topaz protests.

“Well, you don’t have to let him go free! Just, I don’t know, put some manacles on him.” Grandmaster shakes his hands in a  _ what are you waiting for _ motion, and a guard steps forward and complies. Pretty Boy stands, allowing his wrists to be secured in front of him.

“I…” Pretty Boy takes a step forward, and it’s almost comical how rehearsed Grandmaster and Topaz’s reactions are; Topaz making a move to stop him and Grandmaster gesturing for her to back off. Pretty Boy stops, swallowing. “I am to be put into this Contest of Champions?”

“Yes,” Grandmaster raises an eyebrow, amusement clear in his eyes. “Why, do you have something against fighting to the death for the entertainment of all of Sakaar?”

Pretty Boy takes a moment to make deliberate eye contact with me before turning his attention back to Grandmaster. What the hell is he up to?

“Grandmaster, Sir, I…” He pauses, and the sob that follows is so unexpected I nearly jump. He throws himself down onto the ground, shuffling forwards on his knees until he reaches the Grandmaster’s throne and grasps handfuls of his robes. “Grandmaster, please, I beg you, don’t make me fight!” His voice breaks, tears falling freely down his face. “I- I can’t- I’m weak and- I would be dead in a minute! Please, please, I don’t-”

The Grandmaster pulls his legs in, but Pretty Boy stays clutching onto his hem. “Whoa, hold on…”

“I don’t want to die!” Pretty Boy is practically screaming, voice rising in hysteria. “Please, don’t make me fight! Oh, Nords, I don’t want to die! Don’t- don’t- please, I’ll- I’ll do anything!” He shudders as he takes a deep breath. “Please. Don’t make me… please…” The contrast of careful, calculated movements and words to…  _ this _ is jarring.

Grandmaster looks perplexed, but quickly calms himself down. “Okay, okay, just- h- hold on.”

Pretty Boy shuts his mouth, trying to stay quiet as sobs continue to shake him. He looks up, meeting the Grandmaster’s gaze.

“That’s better.” Grandmaster cocks his head to the side. “What was your name?”

Pretty Boy has to take a few deep breaths before replying, tears still spilling from his eyes. “Loki.”

“Alright, Loki.” Grandmaster considers him. “You have to understand, you’re not the first to grovel and beg. I’ve never granted their requests.”

“No, My Lord, please.” Loki squeezes his eyes shut, steeling himself to repeat what he had said previously. “I’ll… I’ll do anything.”

“My Lord, huh? I like the sound of that. But  _ anything _ ?” Grandmaster leans back, hiding a smile. “Anything at all?”

Loki nods, looking slightly disgusted with himself. “Anything you wish. I give you everything I have to offer, my body, my mind, my very essence. If you grant me protection, I will give you anything and everything.”

Grandmaster laughs. “Bold words. You sure you’d be willing to give  _ all _ that?”

“Yes.”

He claps his hands. “Okay, then!” He waves Topaz towards Loki. “Release him.”

“But-”

“I bet he cleans up nice,” Grandmaster muses as Loki carefully rises to his feet, hands freed.

“Hold on,” I interrupt. “You’re letting him go? What about my payment?”

“Of course!” Grandmaster smiles at me. “I could never forget my favorite Scrapper. 50,000 okay?”

I pretend to consider. “I brought you a pretty new toy, and that’s it?”

“That’s more than enough,” Topaz says.

“I mean, I could always take him back.” I shrug. “Your choice.”

“65,000.” Grandmaster counters, not even paying attention to me, his eyes on Loki. I sigh.

“Fine.”

Loki cries out, throwing his arms around Grandmaster. “Thank you, My Lord! I am forever in your debt!” He sobs into the expensive robes, while Grandmaster pats his head.

“You’re gonna be a good pet?”

Loki nods fervently. “Yes. All yours.”

I hear the chime of the units being transferred. “Right. See ya.”

I turn to leave, but look back one last time at the strange sight. Loki pulls back ever-so-slightly, meeting my eyes, and…

He fucking  _ winks _ .

A smirk, the smallest twitch of expression, and then turns back to bury his face in the chest of his “savior”.

I leave quickly, that wink bouncing around in my skull. That little fucker.

I can’t help but be impressed, just the tiniest bit. Maybe subtlety isn’t always the way to go. Beginning with dramatics gives more room for smaller things later, I guess.

Ah, well. My thumb brushes the bottle in my belt. Time for a refill.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Loki so gotdamn much and I haven't written him in FOREVER which sucks but is also probably a good thing because I fell in love when I was in my "edgy-depressed-14-year-old" phase and all I used to do was just. kill him. over and over. painfully. This is a little different lol.
> 
> was also planning on doing his pov until like two minutes before i started writing so i didn't have an exact plan but it morphed into something i actually kind of like??? for once?? The whole "battle of wits" thing was last-minute too and i'm glad how it turned out yay!
> 
> Comments, kudos, and just a silent prayer in your heart that I'll get better at like, actually writing things down are always welcome :)


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